


loose ends

by WonderTwinC



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 4x19 episode tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:44:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7631206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderTwinC/pseuds/WonderTwinC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quentin frowns, brow furrowing as he studies Cisco’s face. “Yeah, I remember you,” he acknowledges after a moment, clearing his throat. “You were the guy that came here with Joe awhile back.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	loose ends

The rain finally lets up when Cisco steps out of the train station with nothing but his backpack and the bundle of flowers he bought from one of the vendors inside. He digs in his jacket for his phone, standing to the side as he re-familiarizes himself with the directions. Even after a few visits he’s still largely unfamiliar with Star City. He hasn’t been here since what happened with Kendra (and Carter and that whole sprouting wings and being soulmates thing) and while he knows it wasn’t that long ago, he can see the changes - the damage that HIVE has wrought upon the city.

The usual hustle and bustle on the streets seems… subdued. People move swiftly to and from their destinations without the usual chatter, wary of what could wait around every block or dark alley way. Some of their nervousness transfers to Cisco as he gets into one of the many taxis waiting just outside the train station and gives the driver quiet, hesitant directions.

The city looks even more dilapidated past the outskirts. Cisco can clearly see where the GHOSTS have laid waste to buildings and fought in the streets with Team Arrow, some areas altogether abandoned now. It makes him feel sick and uncomfortable knowing that he can't do anything to help.

He feels that way for the entire twenty-five minute drive to the cemetery. The driver seems to know exactly where to drop him off and Cisco gets out with a thank you and a tip, crushed flowers still held tightly in his hand. It's only then that he realizes he has no idea where he even needs to go.

Cisco glances around the cemetery, brow furrowing slightly as he looks for... something. He finds it in the black car parked just up ahead off to the side of the gravel road. Beyond that there is a grave that's surrounded by flowers and other things that he can't quite make out, but there is also a lone figure crouched down in front of the headstone.

That's where he walks to.

The buzz of the city doesn't reach here, much to Cisco's surprise. It's quiet as he picks his way between rows upon rows of headstones, feeling his heart hammer wildly inside his chest. He's roughly twelve steps away when it registers that the person crouched in front of Laurel's grave is her father.

The older man's shoulders are slumped and his head is bent low. He looks as if he's been in that same exact position for a while, fingers resting inches from the headstone - afraid to touch it.

Cisco hesitantly clears his throat. "Mr. Lance?"

"What do you want?" the gruff response, more tired than sharp, takes Cisco by surprise.

He takes another half-step forward, clenching the bouquet of flowers until his hand aches almost as much as his chest. "I... was a friend of Laurel's. Sort of."

The older man turns slowly, looking him up and down. Quentin frowns, brow furrowing as he studies Cisco’s face. “Yeah, I remember you,” he acknowledges after a moment, clearing his throat. “You were the guy that came here with Joe awhile back.”

Cisco gives a jerky nod of his head, his hands reflexively twitching against the flowers.

Quentin's frown deepens, eyes narrowing just the slightest before his features relax somewhat. He lets out a slow, deep breath, “Can’t remember your name for the life of me, though. Sorry.”

“No, no-” Cisco shakes his head, swallowing hard. “That’s cool, I- uhm,” he struggles to yank his free hand out of his jeans, holding it out quickly. “Cisco, Cisco Ramon.”

Realization flickers on Quentin’s face, eyebrows raising in surprise for a moment as he puts two and two together. He reaches out and takes Cisco’s hand, squeezing it lightly before he lets go. “You’re the kid that built Laurel’s sonic doo-hickey.”

“The Canary Cry,” Cisco nods as he speaks, correcting Quentin quickly and without thought. The memory of Laurel, smiling and full of pride as she told him she was the Black Canary, makes him smile despite the ache in his chest.

Quentin hesitates, but nods.  “She loved that thing. She was real proud of it.”

The younger man scuffs at the ground with the toe of his converse, feeling something other than sadness well up in his chest.

_Fondness. Pride. Regret._

“Me too,” he replied, offering a small, quiet smile. He's hesitant to invade the space Quentin has created around himself, but the other man sees his intent and reaches out an unsteady hand. Cisco offers him the flowers, watching as he places them right off to the side of the words inscribed into the stone. His fingers linger there.

Cisco swallows hard, speaking softly, “The Black Canary- Laurel, she was everything I ever wanted a superhero to be, everything one should be.”

“Yeah,” Quentin chokes out, his voice carrying a rough edge as he lets out a heavy, uneven breath. “Laurel was always trying to save something, you know?” His fingers idly brush against the top of Laurel’s headstone as he ducks his head and breathes in slowly through his nose. “She was damn good at it too,” he adds softly, clearing his throat hoarsely.

It breaks Cisco’s heart even more than he thought possible.

He knows he should be going - his train back to Central City leaves within the hour, but the idea of leaving Laurel’s father out here on his own doesn’t sit right with him. He could call Oliver or Felicity, probably should if he’s honest, but he swallows around the lump in his throat and instead asks, "Would you mind... telling me more about her?"

There's a moment where Cisco is certain that Quentin is about to tell him no, but then his expression softens and something that resembles a smile eases the harsh lines of his tired face. "Coffee good?"

Cisco nods his head, smiling back. "Coffee sounds great."

  



End file.
